I need a Facebook coach

I decided to take the plunge and put together my Facebook page-profile thingy yesterday and put up some pictures and WORDS and accept friend invitations and stuff.

However, what does one do when they are invited to be friends with their first real boyfriend?  Someone who has not spoken to you in YEARS and, in fact, the last memory you have of seeing him was, how you say... curt.  He was not my biggest fan.  And that was at least 5 years after the breakup. I am confused.

Of course, i accepted his invitation like a lady does, but now i feel like i should say something. 
Something less bitchy than, "Wow, didn't expect that from YOU of all people" yet something warmer than, "...'sup" matched with a head nod.

What's the etiquette here?  I'm new; i don't know how you communicate with people like this yet. 

And does one write on their wall or send an email?  I am so un-cool.  Help me.

Now hiring: New best friends. The old ones are too important to remember me.

It's almost like they want me to work here or something.  I'm not sure i get it.  They've Websensed the hell out of my innernets at work again, just after i got used to them totally disregarding the "Personal and Networking" filter that they had been so stringent on back in April.  After about a month, it's almost like they forgot that they cared about people reading blogs.  And then i was happy.  But now, the IT department sucks.  OH I'LL SAY IT IN PRINT.  I.T. SUCKS.

If you do not have a Typepad account, i am having trouble getting to your comments page.  For some reason, Typepad is not a threat to the IT security geek.  Thank god for Google Reader, is all i have to say.  I would be lost without it.

****

This morning on my way to work, I decided that today would be the day that i try to contact a few people via email that i've lost touch with.  It's been awhile since i've spoken to them, and dammit, i miss them.

The first was a girl that i met in my last semester before graduating from community college.  She was going to be coming to the same shitty school that i'm in now and we promised to keep in touch.  Yeah, not so much.  I thought it would be nice to get together and catch up.  We hit it off pretty well in ceramics class and i feel pretty crappy about dropping the ball.  Also, i want to know what classes she has taken and if she has any information about how to get what you want as this place.  Cause i haven't figured it out yet.

The second is the girl that i grew up with.  My first bestest friend in the whole wide world, mostly because she lived in the house next door to me for most of our childhood.  She and i kind of parted ways after the first year of college because neither of us are very good at long distance friendships.  It happens.  She moved back a few years ago, but I don't think i've actually seen her in 6 or 7 years.  And when i mean she moved back, i mean she was living in the house next to my mother.  Whom I go visit about once a week.  I probably could have done better with that.  But!  She decided to pack up and go to school in Arizona for her PhD.  Fucking good for her.  She sent out one of those mass-email messages you always get from people who are trying to rub it in about how well they're doing even though you haven't heard shit from them in 7 years, to let us know that she was moving and embarking on this bright, new dream.  So i responded to the mass-mail in August, congratulating her on getting herself to the next step and wow, you're moving across the country and aren't you special and so, so smart. 
She totally didn't write me back.

The third is a guy friend of mine whom i haven't spoken to since April.  Before that, i hadn't seen or spoken to him since he left the island and moved to Boston in August of 2007. We had lunch a week before he left and then i heard nothing from him for 8 months.  I thought i had pissed him off somehow, but i guess with moving, he had tried to really start a new life.  Whatever.  He's one of the funniest, most uncomfortable-in-his-own-skin, brilliant people i know. He is the friend that gave me the title to this blog as the subject of an email he wrote to me years ago. I tend to let him off the hook.  As it turned out, he had been in the middle of a love-triangle.  We all know; these things happen.

So far, it has been about 6 hours since i sent those emails out. 

As of 3:45pm, all I have received back is a friend-invite on Facebook from the second girl, my long-lost childhood bestfriend. 

She invited me to be her friend on Facebook.  I don't even have a real account.  I just set it up to see what it was all about, like a few months ago. 

I get the distinct feeling that she is telling me that all i really need to know about her life i can find on Facebook.  As in, "i'm not going to honor you with the joy of receiving a real email from me.  You can learn what everyone else learns about me from my online profile."

My friends suck.

I shouldn't be allowed out without parental supervision.

Well, here's a fun confession:

I just visited the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror on my way out to make sure everything is still where i left it (and to fluff my hair, if you must know) when i noticed that there's a bit of white shmutz under the arm-holes of my shirt. I'm wearing kind of a sleeveless top with sort of a cap-sleeve thing and for some reason my deodorant, my INVISIBLE! solid deodorant, has mushed itself all over my dark red shirt. In the arm pit area. Obviously.

I inspected the area fully and determined that i'm not going to be able to wipe this off with a wet paper towel, that will probably just make it worse, and kind of resigned myself to keeping my arms down all day today. Which sucks, because i'm either going to be totally self-conscious the whole day or i'm going to forget about it in all of 20 minutes from now and wave my arms around like a baboon who's just spotted a helpless car coming into the Six Flags Safari that likes to rip off all of the radio antenae that pass by. I am forgetful like that.

I walked back to my desk and started "working*" again and remembered that i have one of those Shout Wipes in my purse. Right where they're supposed to be! For messy people like me! But it's been in there since April and i haven't thought about it in months! Look at me remembering things! And proceed to take it out and start to blot the underarms of my shirt at my desk, where People walk around all day.

It occurs to me that
#1: Someone is bound to catch me with my face and a wet-nap in my armpit.
#2: It's going to be very hard to explain.
#3: A mirror may be in order here to fully contend with the extent of the mushed deodorant.
And #4: I look like an asshole.

I trot off to the bathroom to further investigate the situation.

By this point, i'm awful proud of myself for having something like a Shout Wipe to get rid of the shmutz under my arms and take off my shirt to do the job right (It's ok, i have a camisole on underneath). However, i didn't realize just how WET these little wipes ARE. But i think, No Problem! I can just dry my shirt under the hand-dryers here in the bathroom!

I look around.

Lo, but there are no hand-dryers. They probably haven't been here since 2002. Disappointment.

I try blotting the moisture out with a paper towel and put my top back on.

Now i look like i've been sweating profusely, seemingly, just from sitting in my cubicle all morning with these giant sweat rings under my arms. The white gunk is gone, but now i'm left a sweaty, sweaty pig.

I will still need to keep my arms down all day. Oh, and chuck that damned INVISIBLE! deodorant. Really, Dove, who are we kidding.



*Read: catching up on my Google Reader.